One's for Fools
by SouthernkindaTragic
Summary: "I know what I'm doing," Gunnar had told her, still on his knees. "I want you to marry me." - Set right after the season 1 finale.


_Hey everyone, this is just something I've been casually working on throughout the summer. It takes place after the season 1 finale, and I guess contains spoilers if you haven't made it through the 1st season yet. Partially inspired by Tim McGraw's song, Diamond Rings and Old Bar Stools._

 _Sorry if I got some things wrong, like the harbor for instance. Also, I'm about 95% certain Gunnar was going to ask for Deacon's approval when he found him drunk, so that's what's happening there if you're at all confused by that part._

 _I hope you like it, and don't find it too overwhelmingly angsty. Comments, compliments, and criticism are always welcome._

 _Nashville is copyrighted to ABC Studios, and I own no rights to it._

* * *

"I can't."

That's what she had told him when he asked her to marry him. "I can't."

"I can't" is the kind of response you give when your friend wants you to go somewhere but you already have plans: _"I can't go to that party tonight, I have a stack of deadlines tomorrow;" "Nah man, I can't get a beer after work, I'm going to my mother's birthday dinner and I don't want to show up smelling like a bar."_ You say "I can't" to a supervisor who wants you to do a double shift all weekend and you're pulling every excuse you can out of your ass. "I can't" is something you say to a friend who bought you a really expensive gift for your birthday. "I can't" is not an appropriate response to "Will you marry me?" It doesn't sound right together, it doesn't fit. It's like asking what time it is and getting a reply of, "Blue."

"I can't" doesn't make sense.

Those two words had been bouncing around in Gunnar's head ever since they slipped off Scarlett's tongue. _I can't._ The shock and horror and utter sadness in her clouding blue eyes. _I can't._ His fingers trembling as he slowly closed the black box. _I can't._ The fake nod and forced semblance of a smile after she stumbled over herself explaining. _I can't._ The sound of her voice after accidentally kicking a beloved pet. _I can't._ Short assurances of feelings that no one believed. Watching her walk down the path of lights. _I can't I can't I can't._ Gently rocking on the park swing until time didn't matter. _I can't I can't I can't._ Wet cheeks and streaked vision. _I can't._ Emptiness. Nothing. A little thirsty.

He started walking, probably sometime around midnight. The pinprick of moonlight through the layers of light pollution was high in the dark sky by the time he stood up from the swing. Gunnar's truck was parked on the street, but he didn't feel like driving. There was something calming about physically moving down a street that being in a vehicle couldn't match. He hoped it would clear his head, maybe take the wind out of the little pieces and snippets of conversations that were repeating on end, over and over through his memory, like part of an unfinished song.

"This isn't what you want," she had told him. And yet, there he was, hoping with every fiber of his being it wouldn't have ended like this. "You just lost Jason." What did Jason have to do with anything? He was dead; he didn't matter anymore. "You're so turned around you don't know what direction you're even pointing." He felt fine, maybe not at this moment, but in general, he was okay.

"I know what I'm doing," Gunnar had told her, still on his knees. "I want you to marry me."

Scarlett had shaken her head. He could see the tears in her eyes when she looked at him. "No, you don't," she said, and silenced his start at protests. "I'm not going to drag us both down, I just… no." Her voice cracked. She took a breath. And then there were those words again, spilling out fast, like she was in a hurry. Like she might change her mind. "No. I can't. I'm sorry."

She didn't want to drag them both down; that's what hurt more than anything. As if the only possible route for them was nothing but darkness and misery. Those few words signified more of an ending than her no ever could.

A dark colored sedan drove past, blinding Gunnar with headlights, and honked a few times, in good fun of the people inside. He blinked to readjust his eyes to the semi-dark street in front of him. He wasn't really sure what his destination was, but wandering alone on a mostly abandoned street didn't bother him too much; anyplace but the house was good for him.

The house; what was going to happen with that? He couldn't even imagine talking to Scarlett right now, little alone living with her. As soon as he saw himself walking in the front door, his brain shut off the thought. No, the house wasn't a destination for him tonight or possibly ever again.

Gunnar shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, feeling more exhausted with that thought than anything else. He was tired of everything that had happened that night. He was tired of the same old streets his feet were on, tired of the memories they held. Maybe he was just plain tired.

His hand came in contact with a cold object in his right pocket. He felt its edges and rounded corners, the slick fabric that covered it. It was weird how such a small object could carry so much power. Just a few hours ago it had an electric buzz every time he touched it, like one of those hand zappers kids bought from novelty shops. It shot a current of hope and excitement into his palm, leaving his nerves tingling and jumpy. Now it was more of a direct punch to the gut and a vague sense delirium, the knowledge that something incredible could have happened, but somewhere fate veered off course and he ended up in a place that wasn't quite reality. Gunnar let his fingers brush over the ring box, and suddenly he knew where he was heading.

He should have known better, really, he decided, the little box growing warm in his pocket, clutched in his palm, as he walked with a little more determination. He should have known this wasn't a good idea as soon as he hit the first step of Deacon's porch that afternoon. Gunnar could remember the nervous words running through his head on the way there – _I wanted your advice on Scarlett… I love her – more than anything else… I know you're the closest thing to a father for her, and, I know it's really old fashioned, but you're also pretty old fashioned… I don't mean you're old, just, you know, have old ideas. Not that that's a bad thing!_ He was on his fourth try when he found Deacon smashed and bent over the front porch, and everything just flew out the window after that.

That right there should have been a sign of a bad idea itself, Sign One. It was horrible timing, and Scarlett had been so worked up about seeing Deacon off the wagon, it had taken her hours to completely calm down from it. Sign Two was what Deacon had yelled at him in slurred words only minutes later after his sponsor and niece had arrived. _"You're not good enough for her."_ The sentence had shocked and slightly confused him; Gunnar hadn't been the beloved family member in the room that was yelling curses and throwing things. He tried to shake it off as a drunken haze without any real meaning, and a part of him even took it as motivation, like somehow he would prove Deacon – all-knowing, always-right, Deacon – wrong. As it turns out, Deacon was right after all. Of course he was.

Gunnar took a turn down a slightly unfamiliar street. It was darker, grittier, and more unkempt than most of the streets in Nashville. The buildings had windows layered with dirt, the sidewalk was cracked and bulging in places. Gunnar stumbled over a large gap where a tree root had pushed up the concrete, and he slowed his pace so he wouldn't do a faceplant in the dark. He could see a glow of lights and cranes peeking out above the buildings in the distance, though, so he knew he was going in the right direction.

 _Are you really doing that whole sad walk around town thing?_ Gunnar could almost hear his brother's voice in his ear as he crossed a deserted road, and he almost smiled. If Jason were here, he would say a lot of things right now. _Unbelievable. Pathetic. You are such a moron._ Each a direct insult, each deeply rooted in care and playfulness. Each completely true.

He _was_ a moron. Why the hell would he even think that proposing was the right move to make in the place he was in? He had blown it for good with Scarlett – that was the truth of it, no matter how badly the thought cut through him. She told him so flat out, not once but _twice_. She had even started to see Avery freaking Barkley again. Anybody could see she was done with him, and while he couldn't blame her for any of it, he also couldn't let it go. He couldn't let her go.

The harbor came into view. He thought of Jason and the weeks of anger, hate, and revenge planning that followed his death. He thought about how it consumed him, how it almost completely destroyed what was left in his life. Some things didn't change.

A layer of early morning fog rested on the murky river water. The air was damp and chilly there, and Gunnar wrapped his jacket a little tighter around him as he stepped onto the small bridge by the pier. Standing in the direct center, he looked out at the river and the shipping cranes scattered around the bank, equipment lights flashing like little beacons in the dark haze. He took in a deep breath of the night air, and then let it out, the smell of fish, mud, and perpetually soaked objects overwhelming his senses.

The last time he was here he had been on a mission. Well, maybe not so much of a mission as an angry rampage. He had been so mad at Jason for lying to him, for violating his trust. Gunnar had wanted to throw him over the railing along with his illegal firearm, just so he wouldn't have to look at him. Now he would have given anything to be able to see him again.

It was a little ironic, he had to admit, how not being over Jason's death was the main point in Scarlett's rejection. He had denied every word of it, but here he was, standing in the last place he saw his brother, thinking of him on a night he had so many other things to think about. Maybe Scarlett _was_ right, and he just didn't want to see it.

Gunnar slipped the black box out of his pocket and turned it over in his fingers. He didn't know when he got the idea. He had been driving to the store to pick up milk for Will (something his friend _had_ been low on), when he passed a small jewelry shop wedged between a deli and a boot store. Suddenly, he had been hearing the small _ding_ of the bell at the top of the shop door, convinced that this was the answer to win Scarlett's heart back. Looking back on it now, he couldn't believe how stupid it actually was.

He opened the box and looked at the ring he had picked out. It wasn't anything fancy; a thin gold band with a diamond stud that was smaller than he wanted, but bigger than he could actually afford, nestled in blue velvet. It sparkled in the hazy moonlight when he turned the box from side to side. It was simple, but still pretty. He thought Scarlett would have liked it.

Gunnar could feel some of the old anger surrounding the harbor seep back into his skin with the damp air. He should have never gone to Texas. He should have never let himself be dragged back into Jason's world. He and Scarlett might have had a chance if Jason never came back. At the very least, he wouldn't feel so guilty about letting down the two most important people in his life.

Gunnar closed the black box with a quick _snap_ , and clenched it in a fist. He raised it up, holding it to his lips for a few moments, letting the smooth cover touch his skin. His eyes squeezed shut as he thought about the loss of another friend, how much he wanted to blame the day, the timing, other people. But he couldn't deny how he was the main factor in the end of both of them.

In one swift motion, he swung his arm back and opened his fist. It was too dark to see where the box landed, but he heard it splash as it hit the water. Another day, another mission. Another relationship – heavy, waterlogged, and irretrievable – at the bottom of the harbor.

"I can't,"she had told him.

"I can't" is something you say when you're trying to imagine an impossible situation. You say "I can't" when there is no chance to what is being asked will ever happen.

"I can't" made sense after all.


End file.
